Deconstructing Stinson
by C.Silver
Summary: A Swarkles story exploring Barney's feelings through seasons 1 to 4. Rated T to be safe.
1. Chapter 1

AN: Hello fellow HIMYM fan! This will be my first fic for this fandom and my first fic since…wait for it…2006! It's been much too long, I have always enjoyed writing and it was about time I got back into it. Still need to figure out if I'm any good at it and that's where you come in, yeah you! Any reviews I can get will mean the world! I am also on board with all constructive criticism! I will try to update this as often as I can but keep in mind I am writing this at the office and I am buried in work during tax season,

Now about the story: it is a Swarkles fic focusing on Barney's character development throughout the show, because let's face it, finale aside, it was phenomenal. I wanted to write about the ever so common fear of allowing yourself to strive for something more that make Barney and Robin such relatable characters. Hope you enjoy! Happy reading!

It all came down to one thing: trouble.

The thrill of the unpredictable made Barney Stinson's eyes twinkle with mischief and his blood run hot with unbound enthusiasm. Wherever he went, he never had to look far…Truth be told, he never had to look at all. Trouble was the sole concept beneath the catch phrases, the plays, the rules and inspired speeches; the one pillar without which all would threaten to crumble. Much like the scotch, cigars and fine suits, it was ingrained in the very fiber of his being. Day after day, night after night, the endless pursuit of absolute awesomeness took him from unlikely encounters to unimaginable situations. Barney Stinson, a man reinvented, would never dare dream of stopping; his next breath depended upon the continuation of the perpetual fever only trouble could command. He lived in a parallel universe of sort, one where the only certainty one could depend upon was the uncertain. One constant had however proven vital amidst the all-consuming storm of women, gambling and booze: a group of 3 friends. Ted Mosby, love sick architect with a penchant for pompous forms of entertainment; Marshall Eriksen, happy go lucky law student with dreams of a better world; and Lily Aldrin, a no bullshit kind of gal who could always be counted on to tell it like it is. Against all odds, they had managed to find a place in his heart; a heart which he had long ago deemed too small and far too damaged to harbor any feelings, least of all love.

The year 2005 had seen a new addition to their little group; one whom like a breath of fresh air, had swept away everything in its wake. The year had flown by in a flurry of scotch, cigars and laser tag and insidiously, Barney Stinson's outtake on all things awesome had begun to shift. Unbeknownst to him, Robin Scherbatsky, reporter, scotch drinker, cigar smoker and gun lover; would be the beginning of a new, unsettling breed of trouble for Barney Stinson.


	2. Chapter 2

Fortress of Barnitude - April 30th 2006

He gives a satisfied wink to the suited up man reflected in the mirror. He had been going for suave and debonair and the flawless urbane charm reflected back at him confirms his inevitable success. Fancying himself a regular Dorian Gray, a blog entry title crosses his mind: The picture of Barney Stinson. He should really write this down, he thinks, when he gets distracted by the familiar buzzing sound indicating a new text message. He walks over to the bar counter and picks up the device to see the word SCHERBATSKY flashing on the screen. A quick smirk spreads across his face.

_At cigar lounge, wanna join?_ It reads.

He was simply going to hit MacLaren's, hoping to start the night with a few drinks in the company of his friends; likely ending it in far more dubious company. But for some inexplicable reason, the prospect of spending a scotch and cigar filled evening with Robin takes over his mind until all previous plans are all but forgotten. Ever since he showed her the place on their first night broing out on the town, they have taken to a new pattern of weekly visits with an occasional side of laser tag. This should be fun, he thinks as a strange sense of giddiness settles in the pit of his stomach.

_Be there in 20, _he replies.

He gives himself one last once-over, making sure the dark grey suit combined with deep red tie gives off the classic vibe he feels suits the lounge best. Satisfied, he grabs his coat and steps out the door.

Cigar Lounge –

A cloud of sweet smelling smoke envelops him as he scans the room. Everything about this place, from the smooth jazz playing to the lavish décor, adds to the aura of supreme confidence surrounding him and he is undeniably in his element. It isn't long before he spots Robin sitting comfortably at the back, enjoying what appears to be an especially fine cigar, judging by the expression of pure bliss spreading across her features as she takes a slow drag. He makes his way across the room in a predatory swagger and settles in the arm chair next to hers. If he had been impressed with the suit she wore on their first visit, it was nothing compared to the dress she has on tonight. The silky emerald green material hugs her figure like a second skin, making sure all her assets are on display. Barney lets his eyes linger lecherously over all his favorite part, nodding in approval, and breaks into a sly smirk.

"That's an awfully nice dress you got there Scherbatsky, if I didn't know any better I'd think you're trying to get me to come home with you tonight; which I would in case you were wondering."

"Don't flatter yourself." She scoffs in an unsuccessful attempt to suppress a giggle. "But I am indeed in need of your skills tonight." She winks playfully, challenging him: _Come play with me_.

"Listening…"he says, leaning forward boldly in a provocative leer causing her to break out in candid laughter.

"Not that kind of skill Barney." she continues, breaking the flirtatious vibe. "I want to enlist your services as a wingman." She says with the devious look she gets when they are about to embark on the legendary train heading straight to a night of awesomeness.

Intrigued, he leans back in his chair and signals the waiter for his usual, Glenn McKenna 35, and gives her an inquisitive look, encouraging her to continue.

"Just for tonight, I want to forget this whole thing with Ted…and Victoria. I figured if I was gonna do this, I might as well do this right and ask the Master." Behind the scotch filled glass, Robin beams tentatively. Barney cannot deny how endearing he finds her obvious attempts at flattery. Robin has always been one to go toe to toe with him, not that any of their friends ever showed the proper respect for his womanizing exploits; but if an opportunity to make Robin beg for it presented itself, he would be a fool not to make the most of it.

"So am I to understand Robin Scherbatsky is in need of the Master, you little minx, I thought you'd never ask!" He barely stops to catch a breath. "I always knew the day would come when my expertise would become a sought after commodity in our little group. However, if you are looking for a good time; may I suggest my services in a more…horizontal area?" Underneath the devilish glint in his eyes, the hope of getting the yes exists in a small part of his heart, so small it is all too easy to overlook. But he loves the banter, the dirty jokes and the games they play so he reaches across the table, snatching her cigar and continues seamlessly into one of his infamous speeches. "Come on Scherbatsky, I'll admit this is a step up from picking up guys at MacLaren's, or worse, dating Ted," his features twist in contempt as he inhales "but even here, you know you won't find a man of remotely comparable caliber to this fine specimen." He gestures to himself; fully aware he is pushing it but carries on regardless. "Plus admit it; you're secretly charmed by my leading man quality and devil-may-care attitude." He ends with a wink combined with the most self-satisfied grin he can muster.

He cannot remember when they started playing these games with each other, even less when he started to enjoy them so. The thought does not strike him as something that should terrify him because it is far too exhilarating: A chase for something completely unattainable, the truest form of challenge.

"Oh-my-God, you, like, totally got me." She twirls a strand of hair around her finger and giggles an octave higher. The mock-girly mannerism leaves her voice quickly enough. "Shape up Stinson, be serious, I'm talking about a onetime opportunity to demonstrate your skills as a wingman, so you gonna hook me up or what?"

"Wow, ok I get it, you're desperate." He laughs. "But I'm afraid you, Robin Scherbatsky, are the one who needs to shape up. You stink of desperation like a cartoon hobo, complete with flies and stink lines." He enjoys giving her a hard time particularly because he knows she can give it right back; it is nothing like making fun of Ted, he thinks. "Come to think of it, don't change a thing. Desperation is one of the most attractive traits on a woman I always say." With a distant look, he takes a slow sip of his scotch, remembering how desperation has worked in his favor on countless occasions. But for reasons he is not keen on exploring, he does not like it on Robin, desperation does not suit her one bit, he decides. In a sudden flash, it occurs to him that her unrequited love for Ted is beginning to turn Robin into an entirely different person. Gone are the fiery independence and ambition; it is only a matter of time before she loses her wit and sense of humor along with them. In less than a second; he goes from his usual roguish façade to completely genuine.

"Listen Robin, I'd like nothing more than to carry on with the banter, enjoy our scotch and possibly help you score what I would later refer to as a pale copy of the Barnacle; but I have to ask." He pauses, scanning her face for any sign of emotion. "Do you really think this is the best way to forget about Ted? And if so, do you even really want to forget about Ted?" he observes the changes in her facial expression and sees the playfulness fade. He had not meant to dampen her spirit and begins to second guess his ability to handle the conversation he so boldly instigated.

"You know what; if you didn't want to help, you should have just said so. I don't need to sit here and get judged by the king of one night stands." She gets up from her seat in a huff but he promptly stops her. Finding himself completely ill equipped at defusing an angry woman, he falters briefly and gives her his most imploring look, begging her to stay, beseeching her to understand. When she slowly slides back in her seat, he figures he is irretrievably engaged down the path of honesty, he might as well go the rest of the way.

"Come on, you know I didn't mean to judge, I am nothing if not in favor of a tumble with a complete stranger I will never _ever_ call again." Not entirely sure where this train of thought is taking him, he lets the words flow from a place that is mostly uncharted. "But Robin, we're bros; I just want to make sure you're not doing this as some kind of defense mechanism."

"Like you're one to talk." She scoffs. But Barney can see her expression softening and takes it as an invitation to continue. Feeling the burn of the scotch down his throat, drawing upon its strength, he smiles knowingly.

"Yeah you're right, but don't let the fact that I may very well be the poster boy for unwarranted defense mechanisms lead you down the same path I walk...you won't like what you find at the end of the road." His eyes fixated on the bottom of the tumbler, unable to meet hers, he feels the full weight of his admission. Barney Stinson, living embodiment of charm and seduction, has a chink in his armor of awesomeness. He feels the warmth of her hand rest on his and looks up to meet her gaze, brutally aware of the vulnerability she is sure to read on his features.

"You're right." She whispers evocatively. "Let's get outta here."

He stands slowly, abandoning their scotch and cigars to follow her across the crowded room.

Emerging in the crisp night air, he is thankful for the ever present bustle of the Manhattan streets, a constant reminder that in the best city in the world, he is king in spite of it all.

"I don't wanna go home just yet; walk with me?" she asks; and with a brief smile, he falls in stride beside her. They wander the streets for hours, joking, laughing, anything to distract them from their short venture beyond the walls they build around their hearts so effectively. Passing Robin's flask back and forth, the laughter gets increasingly louder and their ability to walk straight unquestionably lower. Their feet lead them from the streets of New York to the Hudson River where they both lean over the railing to look at the flowing water below. A comfortable silence settles between them as Robin pulls out a pack of cigarettes from her purse. The smell of the smoke is familiar and comforting; he lets it dance around him, inhaling deeply.

"You know what Barney, I had fun tonight." She turns to face him and for a minute there is no trace of sadness behind her eyes, only glorious spunk; only Robin.

"Told you my skills would come in handy." He is painfully aware that his wink lacks the usual bravado but the atmosphere surrounding them seems to demand openness. In a fluid motion, he extends his hand; it brushes hers ever so slightly as he takes the cigarette between his fingers.

"I think it's time I let it go." She stares straight ahead and he lets his gaze follow hers. There is something about great bodies of water, he thinks, they have the power to make one feel so small, so insignificant. The water will keep flowing here long after they are gone.

"Maybe it is…" His lips form a perfect O as he exhales three flawless smoke rings, allowing his thoughts to fade into the smoke. "Or maybe it's time to tell him the truth."

They stay there in silence long after the contents of the flask run out and the first rays of the sun begin to appear over the water. When the time comes to leave, they just smile at each other, a smile warmer than any they've shared in the past. For the first time in years, he has let another human being glimpse into a part of his soul long ago forgotten. It is with expertly concealed reluctance that he starts his way home. He has barely taken three steps when he turns around abruptly, arms raised toward the sky.

"Yo Robin!" He shouts after her. "Don't give up just yet, you'll get him." With a quick nod and a broad smile, she walks backwards a few paces before they both turn around, walking off in opposite directions.

The sun is rising over the Manhattan skyline when they get into separate cabs. As the sun slowly begins to creep through the window, he feels the blood pump through his veins and hears the beating of his heart louder than ever before. In a rare moment of introspection, he admires the beauty of dawn and with images of her smiling face reeling in his mind, finally allows himself to embrace the full extent of the trouble that is just beginning.


	3. Chapter 3

AN: Thank you all so much for the sweet reviews. You have no idea how much it means to me! It may sound silly but this show has taught me so much about life and love and it feels great to be able to write about it! Here's a short chapter covering season 2, chapter 3 will be longer. Hope you enjoy and all reviews will be more than appreciated. Happy reading!

MacLaren's – February 2007, 1:42 am

He doesn't know what he's looking for when he walks into MacLaren's that night, looking spiffy in a Dolce&amp;Gabana suit of the purest black. He's never been one to have a plan, Barney Stinson always makes the magic happen, no matter the time or place; he is an unyielding, unrelenting instigator.

He doesn't expect to find her there, alone in their booth staring into the bottom of a nearly empty scotch. He takes a moment to observe, assessing the situation. Something is wrong, that much is immediately clear in the way she is hunched over her drink, completely devoid of the usual confidence that defines her in so many ways. But when it comes down to it, it is her eyes, dull and lifeless, that make him decide the night's mission. He can turn this around, he thinks; he can put the twinkle back in her eyes. If the past 2 years have proven one thing if nothing else, it is that if Barney Stinson is an instigator, Robin Scherbatsky is an accelerator. Always willing to spur him on towards a new adventure…her very own brand of trouble. If there is one thing Barney will not tolerate, it is seeing a Bro squander his or her awesomeness when the chase of a legendary night should reign supreme. He signals Wendy for another round and makes his way to her, all swagger ablaze.

"Well, well, well…Fancy seeing you here" he says casually, sliding in the seat opposite her.

"Oh, hey Barney, what's up?" She slurs, without the slightest trace of enthusiasm. Even someone lacking Barney's keen sense of observation could have known that this was far from her first scotch.

"Oh come on Scherbatsky, don't tell me you're getting wasted alone…" He is interrupted by Wendy setting two tumblers filled with Johnny Walker blue on the table. He instantly takes a sip in a sudden need of the fortifying burn down his throat.

"Besides, the Bro Code is quite clear on the matter: A Bro never lets another Bro drink alone…especially if she's hot!" He is rewarded with a soft chuckle. She always did respond well to flattery.

"I…I don't even know what I'm doing here Barney. I was over at Ted's; we stayed in, he cooked dinner for me, we watched a movie, fell asleep on the couch; the evening was pretty solid as a whole." Barney's mind could not possibly comprehend in which universe this would qualify as a solid evening. He had always thought of Robin as a kindred spirit when it came to their philosophy on commitment and her narrative makes his heart skip a beat in a mixture of fear and sadness he does his best to ignore. He suppresses the growing feeling of inadequacy, pushing it deep under the awesomeness, hiding it behind a sardonic grin.

"Well, aside from the fact that all this stuff sounds mind numbingly boring AND the obvious lack of the only couple activity I have any respect for in this story, I also can't help but notice you are sitting here, getting drunk, alone, past 1 AM, and most certainly not sleeping on the couch or partaking in whatever couply activity you claim to enjoy for Ted's benefit." He says straightforwardly, the full extent of his contempt for all things relationship dripping from his voice. His words are meant as a reminder: Robin Scherbatsky has never needed the validation of a partner to know her self-worth; she is strong and fiercely independent.

"So spill it Scherbatsky, we're bros, and as such, I always got your back." He continues, softening considerably. On any other night, she would have fought back, engaging in the witty banter that was so typically them, but tonight, the air surrounding them seems stale, without a trace of a spark. Studying her face, he sees her brow furrow, obviously debating whether or not it would be wise to open up to him.

"You know what, if anyone would get it, it would probably be you." She says matter-of-factly.

"It's just…I'm supposed to be happy aren't I? All of this: the dinners, the movies, the staying at home…I love Ted, I really do, but I've never felt less…alive. "She says, her body language communicating the confusion within, words seemingly unsuccessful at conveying the turmoil inside. "And then I started thinking, which, let's face it, is never a good thing; what if I'm just not cut out for this relationship thing?" she continues, waving her hands in increasing agitation.

"Why Robin Scherbatksy; I am both shocked and appalled, are you by any chance tedding out on me?" he speaks, his tone full of mock indignation in an attempt to lighten her mood. A part of him wishes he had in him to be more sensitive. But Ted _is_ sensitive, and he seems to be at the root of Robin's inner crisis. Had she been looking for comfort, she wouldn't have left the apartment.

"Urgh, I'm a mess Barney." Her words linger in the air for just a second too long and the look in her blue eyes is loaded with unspoken emotion and an all too familiar expression. His grasp tightens on his glass, observing the set of her jaw as she slowly sips the amber liquid. He knows all too well what it's like to be a mess, he considers himself a leading expert in the field of camouflaging it.

"I just can't figure out why the things that are supposed to make you happy never seem to make you as happy as they should." She says with a low chuckle which betrays the seriousness behind the casual tone. He has never seen Robin Scherbatsky so defeated and he pushes the emerging sadness from his heart, instead choosing to congratulate himself on knowing all along what relationships lead to: the complete and utter annihilation of awesomeness.

A rare genuine smile escapes, which he quickly turns into one of his trademark smirks. He needs no further explanation…he understands all too well what it's like to look inside yourself and find nothing but a giant gaping hole. Barney had given up the search for happiness years ago, when he first donned the ever present suit, and chose to dedicate his life to the pursuit of awesomeness instead. His survival based on the hope that if he drowns himself in scotch and shrouds himself in the finest fabrics, the ugly truth lying beneath the wild antics and overbearing behavior will forever remain below the surface. He glances at his watch briefly and sees it is just past 2 am, how very fitting, he thinks remembering his bro's old saying. It suits him just fine; he is most certainly up to no good and the promise of trouble sends a shiver down his spine.

When he gets up and walks over to her side of the booth, his thigh pressing against hers, he does not stop to wonder whether it's the buzz from the scotch or the all too irresistible pull of trouble that makes him place a warm hand on her thigh. When she makes no attempt to break this new contact, his lips begin to form what is to known to the women of New York City as an irresistible, yet unmistakably cocky grin.

"What do you say we get outta here? I have it under good authority that this city is in need of little chaos and mayhem! Break into laser tag? Rob a liquor store? Nothing's off limits! Waddaya say Scherbatsky?" He says purposefully, full of charismatic bravado.

When she finally looks up to meet his gaze, he finds the familiar twinkle he never expected to so desperately crave when he first entered MacLaren's that night. His eyes grow a shade darker; the magnetic pull undeniably too strong for either to look away. His expression goes from boyish mischief to full on scorching flames. The sense pride swelling inside him as he sees the matching heat reflected back at him, spreading across her features like wildfire mildly surprises him but he recovers quickly and gives himself a mental high five. When it comes to metaphorical fires, Barney Stinson is a convicted arsonist; what up!

He downs what is left of his scotch, slamming the tumbler on the table exuberantly and at this very moment, he knows with absolute certainty that trouble has never tasted so sweet.


	4. Chapter 4

AN: Sorry for taking so long to update! I have been so busy with work I have had 0 time to even think of writing. Thank you so much to all who reviewed and enjoy this story, I hope this chapter lives to your expectations! In this chapter, you will see Barney struggle with his emerging feelings for Robin. I wanted to explore what it's like to always be perceived as the façade you project; to the point you almost start believing it yourself. Finding out he can actually feel something comes as a shock to him and his entire world begins to change. This takes place on Barney's Birthday 2008, the one referred to on s5 ep18 – Say Cheese (must have watched it 100 times hehe) when they meet Slash(I'm a huge GnR fan). I tried to stick accurately to the time line. Most people think Barney's birthday is in November, which would take us after Sandcastles. Hopefully I got it right, or close enough. Happy reading and please review.

Fortress of Barnitude – November 22th 2008 – Barney's birthday.

The silk glides against his skin smoothly as he slips the dress shirt on. Laid carefully on the bed behind him lies a pin striped Armani suit jacket of deep charcoal with tie to match. Another year, he muses, picking up the tie, fastening it tightly around his neck. He adjusts his cufflinks meticulously and slides the jacket on. Standing in front of the mirror, he stares at the reflection, searching for any trace of the havoc this past year has wreaked upon his soul. But all he sees is the crisp perfection, not a single crack in the mask. The impenetrable walls of the fortress still appear intact; standing impervious to the attacks of one Robin Scherbatsky. To be fair, and he was always one to give credit where credit is due, she had been slowly but surely breaching his defenses since the day they had met. Their one night together had been rough, full of edges and had left his heart mangled and exposed. Feelings he does not dare recognize threaten to surface at a moment's notice and for all the fear and shame, the sheer excitement of it makes his heart burst from his chest at the mere thought of the possibilities.

Tonight is his birthday, usually his favorite night of the year. A night, on which he always wears his best suit, drinks the finest scotch and has the most legendary stories to tell the next day. This night would be no different in all ways but one: the man inside no longer bears any resemblance to the reflection in mirror. He strikes his trademark pose, bringing a hand to the knot of his tie, and freezes his face into a crooked smirk. It is all too seamless; with the practiced ease of a trained professional, concealing emotion has become a second nature; a skill necessary for survival.

He is meeting the gang at MacLaren's at 9pm, allowing him another half hour of solitude. On auto-pilot, he heads straight for the bar and reaches for scotch and tumbler, filling it well past a double. Restless, he paces around the living room, struggling with emotions of a completely unnatural nature. He drains the content of his glass quickly and the slight buzz helps him gather his thoughts and reach an ultimate conclusion: If he plays his cards right, and he always does, no one needs to know that Barney Stinson has fallen in love with Robin Scherbatsky.

MacLaren's – 9:30pm

The gang is already gathered at their usual booth when he steps inside. Marshall and lily on one side and Robin on the other, the seat next to hers conveniently empty. He is about to head over when he spots Ted at the bar, waving him over enthusiastically. He takes a few shaky steps, determined to regain his composure but the mere awareness of Robin's presence so close to him sends his mind reeling into a spiral of self-doubt. Like an earthquake sending tremors to the core of his soul, his emerging feelings for her have created a chasm between himself and his comfortable world of booze and bimbos. The ground beneath his feet seems to have shifted and even the familiar environment of the bar looks to him a completely different place. Never since the day he left the hopeful boy behind to become the man he is today has he felt so out of place.

"Your finest scotch for the birthday boy!" Ted's hand on his shoulder snaps him back to reality just in time to accept his drink from Carl. "So, how does it feel to be…wait…how old are you anyway?" Ted asks gleefully.

"Please." He gives himself a mental pat on the back for managing to utter a single word that didn't sound entirely out of character.

"Way to go Stinson, you're nailing this!" He realizes a second too late that he said it out loud. Ted's puzzled expression informs him that it did not go unnoticed.

"Are you ok bro, you seem a little off." Ted says in a voice laced with a mixture of concern and amusement.

"I am totally ok, more than ok, I'm awesome…you're a little off." He knows from experience that his usual dodgy behavior gets him off the hook nine out of ten times. He does not care to explore the reasons why. It is far easier to close the door on any further discussion on matter by making his way to the booth.

The rest of the gang all stand to greet him, shouting birthday wishes and requesting high-fives. Robin pulls him in a cheerful embrace and he is surprised at how natural it feels. He had allowed the situation to build up; growing to such epic proportions it had taken a mind of its own. He had almost lost sight of the simplicity that made his friendship with Robin so enjoyable. Sliding smoothly in the seat next to hers, he notices Ted, who has taken the chair at the end of the booth, nervously glancing back at the entrance. Giving Ted a hard time had proven throughout the years to be reliable source of entertainment and had become a favorite hobby of his and Robin's. He figures if any subject would ease them back into normalcy this was it.

"Say Ted, I can't help but notice you've been eyeing the door an awful lot, what gives?" He leans back in the booth, a sudden wave of confidence washing through his body. A sideways glance in Robin's direction is enough to confirm his prior assumption; the gleam in her eyes as she observes Ted's guilty expression is sufficient to let him know she's all in.

"Yeah Mosby, you've been hovering around that door all night, what's the deal?"

"Well, you know how I told you guys about that yoga class I've been taking." Barney cannot resist the urge to interject; the subject matter is much too hilarious to pass up. Does Ted do it on purpose, he wonders.

"If you are referring to one of the many occasions on which you've given me reason to revoke your dude membership then yes, Ted, I am familiar, you may continue."

"Well as it so happens Barney, the super-hot instructor from said class is going to be my date tonight." Ted smugly raises his hand for a high five. Marshall promptly obliges him and even Barney cannot deny being mildly impressed.

"I gotta hand it to you, although you seem to insist on engaging in totally lame activities, you at least scored a presumably hot piece of ass in the process." He smirks. "Dude membership reinstated!" Robin's giggle does not escape him. Lily, on the other hand, appears less than pleased. Barney automatically assumes it is due to the crudeness of his statement, as per usual. But rather than directing her frustration towards him, she rolls her eyes at Ted.

"Here we go again…" She sighs, unimpressed. "In tonight's episode of: Ted wrecks yet another group event; the role of future Mrs. Ted Mosby will be played by: Random Yoga Instructor." Her impersonation of a TV announcer is poorly executed at best but it is enough to get the message across.

"Seriously Ted, every single time."

As if on cue, a curly haired woman approaches the booth. Barney makes an immediate mental assessment that she must be at least a 7, impressive for the likes of Ted. The new comer is introduced as Erin with a level of excitement on Ted's part that would have normally disgusted Barney. However, he hardly takes notice of anything Ted or his date says or does, barely remembering to comment on the benefits of increased flexibility. Focus, he is well aware, has never been one his primary assets and he's always been one to get distracted by the smallest thing. The night so far has been no exception aside from one unsettling aspect. The distractions, most commonly attributed to those of the bimbo persuasion, are entirely focused on Robin. From the sweet smell of her shampoo, which had clung to the suit he had worn that night for longer than he cares to admit, to the way her hands grip her beer bottle the same way they had coiled around his tie; he finds himself unable to put a stop to the constant reminiscing.

"Barney?" Robin says rather loudly, her tone implying that she had been trying to get his attention for some time. "Next round's on me." She smiles. "Help me carry it back?"

The short familiar walk from the booth to the bar has a strange, hazy atmosphere. Normally, he would be scanning the area; methodically analyzing the women in the room, finding the perfect balance between hot, drunk and easy to fool. But lately, the only methodical analysis appears to be turned inward and he finds himself terrified that perhaps he really is nothing more than entertainment value to all his friends…to her.

"Thank God we needed a refill, one more minute of Ted gushing over what's her face and I was gonna hurl, am I right?"

"Yeah totally, leave it to Ted to turn the awesomest day of the year into commitment fest." With a mask of unwavering confidence, he leans back on the bar counter and signals Carl for another round. Robin nods and chuckles in approbation. His hand brushes against hers ever so slightly as they both reach to pick up the order set before them and her touch sends a feeling of unease creeping into his heart. He spares a brief glance back at the booth and catches Lily's warm smile, radiating love and approval for the man sitting beside her. Turning back to Robin, he raises his tumbler between them.

"To us!" He says; resigned to the idea that love and approval from a woman would probably never be in the cards for him. "To the last men standing."

A part of him wishes she could see the increasing number of cracks in the mask; that she would tell him it's ok to let it crumble into nothingness. But she doesn't; she only smiles and raises her glass in return. He figures he's better off taking whatever he can get; small as it may be…the scotch is usually enough to dull the pain.

They make it back to their seat, drinks in hand, to Marshall's excited account of the delicacies he enjoyed at lunch, courtesy of Food Guy and other tales from GNB.

"And this guy" Marshall gestures towards Barney, grinning widely. "Hit not five, not six, but SEVEN pigeons! Now buddy, you know I normally don't approve but it's gotta be some kind of record." Barney, always one to take pride in any sort of recognition, takes a slight bow before reclaiming his seat.

"Let it be known that the B-man exceeds expectations at whatever he does."

Basking in the warm glow of being the center of attention helps him forget; helps him regain some measure of his true self. Introspection does not become him, he decides, flashing a provocative smile at a tall blonde entering the bar. Walking in behind her, clad in a leather jacket; a top hat covering his head of long curly hair, is a familiar figure. Barney immediately recognizes him, a wild enthusiasm overriding all previous thoughts.

"Don't look! Don't look!" He exclaims suddenly.

"Why aren't you looking? It's Slash from Gun'n'Roses!"

In a general state of excitement and a predictable request from Lily for a group shot, the gang gathers around the musician. Despite his celebrity status, Slash appears to be a genuine, down to earth guy and accepts to pose with them. With an appreciative look one would have expected to be directed at the ladies, he gives Barney a quick once-over.

"Sweet suit bro." The tall curly haired man nods in approval.

"Armani." He announces proudly. "Only the finest fabrics can grace the fine body of the Barnacle."

"Wait, are you Barney Stinson?" His friends all wear a matching expression of pure shock.

"Why yes indeed I am, Slash from Guns 'n'Roses."

"No way! That is awesome; I totally read your blog." The irony of having a famous rock star appear so star struck at the sight of him does not unsettle him one bit. It is only right that every bro, regardless of their level of fame, should draw upon his infinite knowledge of a superior life style.

"You don't say." He nods with a sly smile, eyebrows raised triumphantly.

Sharing a defeated look, knowing they will never hear the end of it, the gang thank Slash for the picture and drag a gloating Barney back to the booth before his ego inflates to unmanageable proportions. High on the fame and glory of his beloved blog, his chest swelled with pride; his first genuine smile of the night spreads across his face.

"Hey guys, remember that time we met Slash at MacLaren's on my birthday."

The excitement goes on through the night, a general state of inebriation settling over the group. Ted and Erin are the first to go, followed by Lily's drunken outburst of the word rhinoceros, causing her and Marshall to hurry out of the bar. Soon, Barney and Robin are left alone, the inches separating them on the leather seat progressively decreasing until their thighs are pressed again each other's. A last round is implicitly agreed upon and they spend the remainder of the evening discussing ways to top this night in terms of awesomeness.

"Rent out the laser tag joint and have an all-out strip laser tag tournament?"

"Too predictable."

"Black tie scotch tasting?"

"Too douchey."

"Rob a liquor store?"

"I find the fact that we keep coming back to this a little disturbing…" Robin chuckles, bumping her shoulder into his. Their eyes meet briefly and at this moment he knows that she sees it; his dried and shriveled heart swelling back to life.

"Listen, it's getting late, I should really get going." She nervously fumbles for her bag and starts rummaging through it. "Oh and...I got you something." She continues. "Thought you'd like it."

Robin pulls out an item and sets it on the table. The CD case bears the title _Make it Sparkle_ in bright colors. He picks it up, examining the cover closely for any trace of potential hilarity. It does not disappoint. From the ridiculous 80's get-up to the appearance of her robot sidekick, it manages to be both the best and worst thing he's ever laid eyes on. With boyish glee, his eyes leave Robin's blond counterpart to meet hers.

"Scherbatsky…you've truly outdone yourself."

"Did you expect anything less from the second most awesome person you know?" She winks affectionately.

"No…no I didn't. Thanks Robin."

"Don't mention it." Try as he might, Barney cannot decipher the look in her eyes: a mixture of fear, anger and a hint of something else he can't quite put his finger on. As she slowly turns to leave, it occurs to him that if he didn't know any better, he may have mistaken it for love.

He allows his gaze to follow after her as she makes her way towards the door. He sees her stop by the bar, where a busty blonde is sipping on a neon pink cocktail which, judging by the amount of fruit it contains should be considered some kind of dessert. He watches as Robin leans over to whisper something in the woman's ear. The blonde's seductive smile when she turns around and looks in his direction goes unnoticed until he sees her approaching the booth. His eyes remain fixated on Robin's face. A wave of warmth washes over him at the sight of her smile and it is only when she playfully mouths the words _happy birthday_ that he turns his attention to the woman now standing before him. In the mere seconds it takes him to give her an uninterested once-over, Robin is gone; and with a heart as empty as the spot where she had stood a minute earlier, he gestures for the blonde to take a seat.

Fortress of Barnitude – November 23rd 2008

He wakes up with a start, pulled from his dreams to the harsh reality dawn never fails to bring. He remains perfectly still, hoping against all odds that if he lays here, eyes closed, the fantasy world of dreams will somehow take over that of reality. A hint of movement beside him makes the previous night's events unfold in his mind and he opens his eyes just a crack. The tousled blond locks spread on the pillow beside him confirm his suspicions. A sudden sense of claustrophobia overtakes his body, overwhelming him almost immediately. He stealthily slips out of bed, careful as to not wake his unwelcomed guest. Grabbing his robe of deep blue silk from its usual place behind the bedroom door, he heads straight to the kitchen where he rummages through the top shelf of the right most cabinet, retrieving his emergency pack of cigarettes. It is a foggy morning and the distant hum of traffic below as he opens the patio doors only serves to make the outside world seem more remote, adding to the surreal atmosphere surrounding him. The cool November air seeps through the thin material and feels invigorating. Eyes closed, he takes a long, slow drag of comforting smoke, letting it escape his lips and melt into the fog. He does not remember much from last night, nor does he need to. It is simple enough to reconstruct the night's events: after his friends had gone home, he had stayed behind and treated himself to a birthday present of his own in the form of the blond, whose name he of course does not remember, who is now sound asleep in his bed. On any given night, that's exactly what one could expect of Barney Stinson. But in some remote corner of his heart, one that has not been put to good use in years and is now covered in rust, the nagging feeling one gets when something is missing is getting harder and harder to ignore. Meaningless sexual encounters with complete strangers had always been an integral part of his MO. The concept of being left wanting more, to the point of obsession, was entirely unfamiliar territory. Never in all his years as the player King of New York city had he experienced the raw desperation he had felt when Robin's lips had first collided with his. In the eerie quietness of dawn, the thoughts weigh heavily upon him; in the Barney Stinson universe of magic and smoke and mirrors, nothing has ever felt so real. He can ignore this, he tells himself; he'll just have to be awesome instead. Heedlessly, he flicks the remains of the cigarette into the distance and steps back inside.

His eyes roam the apartment that has been his fortress for his entire adult life. Monochrome grey, cardboard displays and silence; he can't help but wonder if that is truly all he has to offer. From the corner of the coffee table, a flash of color catches his eye. He lets himself collapse on the couch. With a mirthless chuckle, he picks up the object in question. The _Make it Sparkle_ CD had been the perfect gift idea. To the untrained eye, the perky teenager on the picture resembles in no way the woman he's come to know. But Barney has come to think of himself as an expert in all things Robin Scherbatsky. Gone are the blond locks and flashy clothes, no trace remains of the naiveté. Much like Barney himself, she is a woman reinvented. The openness of Robin Sparkles had left her cut and bruised, and she had spent the past years metamorphosing into a sophisticated, yet guarded woman. Yet she had chosen to give him something which embodied a part of her life she had worked so hard to suppress. Despite appearances, this was a clear sign that she was letting him in.

The sound of shuffling coming from his bedroom snaps him out of his thoughts, his heart's desire clashing with the bleak reality he now has to deal with. There will be no warm smile or easy camaraderie waiting for him in the room, only the tedious task of telling this woman to pack up her things and go.

A distinct buzz resounds from the kitchen counter where his phone had spent the night. He knows of only one person who gets up early enough to text him at 6:30AM. He opens up the message and despite the growing feeling of emptiness in the pit of his stomach; he cannot help but smile ruefully when he reads the words:

_Hope you enjoyed your birthday present ;) Better not let her find out you're not really Brad Pitt's long lost twin or you'll wind up in trouble!_


End file.
